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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698781">Day 31 -- Freestyle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebird38/pseuds/Flamebird38'>Flamebird38</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Apex [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>31 Days of Apex (Apex Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:08:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebird38/pseuds/Flamebird38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the years go on, Bangalore's perception of herself and the world around her starts to change. Every time she looks in the mirror, who will be looking back at her?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Apex [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day 31 -- Freestyle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks again to @ToxicDogs (twitter) for the inspiration for this prompt! The block was all too real!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ha, ‘Nita, you really lookin’ at yourself in the mirror again?” I look up from my pose and see Jackson leaning against the frame of the bathroom door. He has the biggest and goofiest grin on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“Pft, no,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest. “But if I was, I’d be looking at how much stronger I am than you.” I pull up my sleeve and flex my bicep while looking at him through the mirror. “Yep, they’re so much bigger than yours.”</p><p> </p><p>Jackson only laughs. “Are you sure?” He rushes up behind me, wrapping me in a bear hug from behind. “I’d like to you see you get out of these.” I laugh, trying to act angry as I squirm to get free. Jackson holds on strong, his laughs echoing off the tile.</p><p> </p><p>“I swear when I outrank you, you’re gonna be sorry!” I say, my voice is stern for just a moment before I start giggling. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes, my apologies, <em> General </em>Williams.” My brother finally lets go of me and decides to stand in mock salute instead. I roll my eyes, shoving him in the chest. He always said I’d outrank everyone in the family one day, but he never stops teasing me about it.</p><p> </p><p>Jackson comes up beside me, slightly out of breath from laughing so hard. He puts his hands on my shoulders, turning us to look in the mirror. He just stares, letting the silence grow. But, unlike most silence I’m forced to endure, this one was comfortable. I could feel Jackson’s admiration spilling off of him. </p><p> </p><p>“I have no doubt that you’ll be doing great things out there, Anita,” he finally whispers. I turn my head to look at him, but he places his hand under my chin and directs my gaze to my reflection. “You’re one of the best the IMC has seen in a long time. You’ll go far. I know it.”</p><p> </p><p>I smile, breaking the gaze to look at my feet. <em> General Williams… yeah, I think I could get used to the sound of that. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“God, you stupid fucking Trench Monkey.” I’m sitting in my Command Sergeant Major’s office with almost every part of my body bandaged and my arm in a sling. “I swear to god, being a Williams kid isn’t going to get you out of this one.” He slams his fist on his desk, making his pens rattle.</p><p> </p><p>I just look at my feet. I know better than to argue with someone who outranked me. Especially as a slick sleeve. I know why I’m here. I choked… big time. I should have pulled the trigger but I didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>“You fucked this one up, Williams,” my CSM screams at me. “You let that rebel get back to his squad and literally <em> send missiles </em> at us! You lost us lives.” A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. It’s true that I fucked up. I thought I was prepared for battle. I thought I was able to do whatever it took to win. But the truth is, I wasn’t able to do any of that. </p><p> </p><p>He was young... The Militia soldier, I mean. He was short, scrawny, and looked like he could barely balance on his own two feet. When I stuck my P2020 in his face, I could see the fear grip his eyes. His trembling made him drop his weapon and his face go pale. He was nowhere near my age… sixteen at best. That’s when I hesitated. He didn’t deserve to die. With his whole life ahead of him, how could I just end it for him right there? </p><p> </p><p>“Look at me, Private,” my CSM says. I look up at him almost afraid to make eye contact. He pulls a hand mirror out of one of his desk drawers. He holds it in front of me. “What do you see?”</p><p> </p><p>I look at myself as best I could. My left eye is swollen and black. My lip is puffy with a stitched-up gash. The rest of my face is covered in sporadic cuts and bruises. I open my mouth to say something but my CSM beats me to it.</p><p> </p><p>“I see someone who’s not fit for battle,” he says quietly. “I see a coward… I see a <em> family failure. </em>” I feel my face get hot as he sets the mirror down. “I don’t care how good you were in the academy. If you can’t figure out how to pull the fucking trigger, I’ll make sure you end up Tango Uniform myself,” he growls. “Do I make myself clear?”</p><p> </p><p>I look down at my shoes again. With my head empty and heart beating out of my chest, I can barely utter my next words. “Yes, Sir.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Just thirty minutes until we drop.  I head to my dorm bathroom on the dropship, making sure my gear was on just right. This was always the worst part of the entire match. The anticipation, the anxiousness of not knowing who you’ll get paired with. Every time you wonder if this is the match that will make you or break you. </p><p> </p><p>“Remember, Ani—Bangalore—no mercy.” Gripping the sink and looking in the mirror, I give my tiny reflection a hard stare. Littered with mirror rot and spider-web cracks, it was hard to see myself in the tablet-sized mirror but I managed. “Lead your wingman shots, always aim for the head.” </p><p> </p><p>I don’t know how long I stood there staring at myself. But I’m brought out of my trance when the Big Voice announces that it’s time to take our positions on the launch pads. I make my way out of my dorm, closing the door a little too hard. </p><p> </p><p>The teams, already chosen before I end up getting there, are all positioned in their dropzones. I take my place beside Mirage and Gibraltar. I roll my eyes at the fact the Mirage is on my team. His inability to take anything seriously drives me insane. As jumpmaster, if he doesn’t drop us somewhere good, I may seriously consider just going off solo. When the countdown starts, I give myself one last stretch. Mirage launches us off instantly, giving off a shout of excitement with Gibraltar.</p><p> </p><p>When my feet finally hit the sand that covers Kings Canyon, I realize that Mirage decided to drop us in the hottest part of the map: Skull Town. I groan, knowing there’s going to be immediate action. </p><p> </p><p>I get feet from my landing spot when I come face to face with Bloodhound. Both of us without a weapon, I decide to take my chance. I land one swift punch to their face, and then quickly tackle them to the ground. They fight to get me off, but it’s no use. Sitting on their stomach and holding their head down by their collar, I raise my fist again and land another punch. Then another. Then another. <em> No mercy, Bangalore. No mercy. </em> </p><p> </p><p>I don’t know how many I land when I finally hear glass shatter, one of the lenses of their mask finally giving out. Finally feeling the blood from my knuckles seep through my gloves from the numerous impacts, I snap out of my trance for a few moments. Looking down at Bloodhound, I catch the distorted reflection of myself in their remaining intact lens. I can see the feral expression on my face, teeth bared and eyes filled with rage. The person in that lens truly knows no mercy. I feel my raised fist clench tighter, shaking in hesitation. Was this really me? Was it?</p><p> </p><p>I feel a pair of arms wrap around me, pulling off of Bloodhound. “Calm there, bruddah,” Gibraltar says.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Bangs, you kinda gotta chill out,” Mirage pipes up as Gibraltar sets me down. “I get being aggressive, but don’t cha think that was a little overboard?” Mirage walks up to Bloodhound, nudging them with his foot. “Like, you don’t have to keep going at it after they’re already dead.”</p><p> </p><p>I growl, brushing past the both of them. <em> There’s no such thing as going overboard. It’s a bloodsport, dumbass. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There aren’t many places you could go on Solace where you can spend a quiet night by yourself. Mostly desert, rock, and bone, this planet is just one giant wasteland. However, every once in a while, you stumble across a little oasis. I enjoyed coming to this small watering hole in my spare time. Hidden by canyon walls, the perfect mix of shade and sun created one of the most peaceful places amongst the chaos that is this planet. </p><p> </p><p>My favorite was coming here at night. The endless summer moon illuminates the area, using the glassy surface of the pond as help. The slight breeze rustles the leaves, leaving with just enough noise so I don’t feel constricted by the silence. My favorite spot to sit is in perfect relation to it all. And when I finally do get settled down, my only company is my reflection. She’s good company. She listens to me, understands me—at least I would like to think so anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Heh, if someone found me here, it would definitely be a sight.” My single chuckle echoes off the canyon walls, filling the small space. I look down at my reflection in the water. It’s just me. It’s always just me. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes I wonder what Jackson would say if he saw me like this. What kind of jabs would he come up with if he saw his baby sister had now become a recluse? I break eye contact with my reflection, feeling a sad smile creep across my face. A gust of wind makes its way through the small canyon, giving me a sudden chill and making my hair stand on end. </p><p> </p><p>I look back at my reflection, but this time I’m not alone. Behind me I see Jackson. He smiles at me, a warmness radiating from it that makes me feel comforted. I smile back, remembering how he would always give me that same smile when I would tell the family about another Academy record I broke. I look at him in the eyes, basking in their familiarity. His ghost reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder. I reach up, grabbing at his hand but all I catch is the fabric of my shirt. And just as quickly as I grab my shirt, Jackson is gone.</p><p> </p><p>I sigh. Part of me wishes I had someone to confide in, someone I could let go with. It’s not easy being a loner. It’s taxing, it’s difficult, but ultimately it’s for the best. No attachment means no loss… It means no more Jacksons.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The night is quiet when I enter my apartment. The twist of a lifetime felt like a twist of a knife in my plans. I went to help Loba. I went to kill the Sim. Instead, I’m met with him asking—dare I say beg? Maybe… probably not—her to help him die. The man, the murderer, the <em> thing </em> all of us Legends so desperately wanted gone is now the first in line asking for death. I shake my head, pacing my living room. If only that was the thing that was sending me spiraling. </p><p> </p><p>What was truly getting to me was Loba. It was how she was so emotional in the few words she said to me at her ship, how for a moment she decided to confide in me. It was how I stayed, how I accepted being that confidant. It was how for a split second two adversaries put their differences aside for a moment of trust. </p><p> </p><p>I catch my reflection in the mirror above my couch. “Am I losing it?” I ask the second me as if I expected her to reply. I chuckle, continuing to pace. “And if I am losing it, what is it that I’m losing?” </p><p> </p><p>That was the problem with ambiguous “it.” You never know what exactly you’re referring to. I stop and look at my reflection again. Someone who is so familiar yet a total stranger stares back at me. Who is this Anita staring back at me? Who is the one that I’m losing? Part of me wants to give the obvious answer.<em> It’s gotta be the me from all those years ago, </em>I think. Who else could it be? I’ve been losing her for as long as I could remember.</p><p> </p><p>“But that’s not who I’m losing, is it?” I hear myself say. I reach out, almost touching the mirror. “You’re cracking, ‘Nita.” Maybe I am… And maybe I’m not overly upset about it. “Maybe it’s time you start letting the old Anita back in. She… Loba did call you ‘General’ after all.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Definitions for the military slang:</p><p>Trench Monkey: a derogatory term that refers to someone in the army<br/>Slick Sleeve: a soldier who has not yet earned a rank which requires a sleeve decoration<br/>Tango Uniform: Slang for "tits up," which is the position dead bodies tend to face<br/>Big Voice: Term for describing a loudspeaker on a military base</p></blockquote></div></div>
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